


Jane Doe and the Ten Thousand Hats

by HankTalking



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: American Sign Language, Deaf Soldier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Other, Tree Climbing, nonbinary Pyro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28035654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HankTalking/pseuds/HankTalking
Summary: *thinks about the parallels between soldier and pyro both using protective clothing as comfort items and sign language to communicate things they have difficulty with and also have trouble with other people just in general*  …fate…the serendipity….
Relationships: Pyro/Soldier (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Jane Doe and the Ten Thousand Hats

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from me WILDLY misremembering the 500 hats of bartholomew cubbins

“No hats at the table, shortstop!”

“Uh, _you’re_ wearing a hat dumbass.”

“How dare you!” Soldier barked, slamming his fist down on the abused wooden table and making every dish on its surface clatter. The cup tower Pyro had been stacking trembled to ruins. “THIS, maggot, is part of a soldier’s uniform! I will NOT hear you compare it to that baseballer’s excuse for a getup!”

Whining, Pyro mourned the loss of the of the last five minutes of hard work, but they were the only one at the table who seemed bothered by Soldier’s and Scout’s altercation. Almost everyone else was still eating, occasionally lifting their glasses off the table if it looked like Soldier might bring his hand down again. Medic hadn’t even looked up from the stapled sheets of paper he was looking through.

“Demo’s wearing a hat,” Scout pointed out. “Why don’t you get on _him_ for a change?”

“Unlike you, the Demoman is a valued member of our team. He has earned that right!”

“He’s face down in his spaghetti.”

That he was, snoring softly with his bottle of scrumpy in one hand. Someone had been nice enough to turn his head so he didn’t choke on marinara sauce in his sleep.

“And _Spy_ -”

“That is enough!” Soldier bellowed. He grabbed the front of Scout’s and hauled him bodily across the table, sending plates squeaking as Soldier brought his foe nose to nose. Everyone in the vicinity idly pulled their meals out of the way. “You will REMOVE your DISRESPECTFUL GARMENTS this instant! This is America, son, and here in America we eat tons of ice, we watch football and do not understand what is going on, and WE TAKE OUR HATS OFF AT THE T-”

Scout reached two fingers under the rim of Soldier’s helmet, and flicked the whole thing off.

The helmet went skidding with a clatter, a sound deafening in the suddenly silent mess hall. Soldier was frozen, jaw still open mid-word as Scout smirked smugly at him, both of them now leaned awkwardly over the table and not moving.

Pyro had a cat once. It was skinny and black and liked to play peek-a-boo, where it would try to stalk Pyro when it thought they weren’t looking. Pyro would pretend to be doing something else and then look up quickly to see if they could catch Kitty in the act, at which the little thing would freeze no matter what it was doing. It didn’t matter if it was one paw in the air or mid tail-flick, it would simply stop, as though not moving would make Pyro forget it was there.

In that moment, Soldier was exactly like Kitty. His hand was still tangled in Scout’s shirt, but his now exposed eyes flicked around rapidly in panic, glancing at every mercenary that was watching the display in rapt attention.

He let go with such suddenness that Scout fell elbow first into his own pasta. Soldier scrambled hopelessly after his rolling helmet, tripping along the way and accidently kicking it further as he desperately tried to grab it. It should have been an amusing sight, if Pyro hadn’t abruptly felt a deep pang of familiarity watching Soldier finally scoop it up and try to cover his face.

The other mercs disagreed with their assement. Spy snickered quietly to himself, and even Engie was trying to hide a grin.

“What are you ladies all looking at?” Soldier demanded, the helmet failing to hide the deep red in his face. “You should be imbuing nutrition for the coming battle! The tiny soldiers that operate your joints require sustenance!”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out the mess hall. A few more suppressed laughs followed him out.

Scout twirled noodles on his fork with a self-satisfied smile.

“ _That was mean_ ,” Pyro mumbled to him.

“It’s not mean if he has it coming.”

“ _You’re a bully_.”

“Aw, a bully?” Scout mocked, using his ‘you’re a little baby’ voice. “What, you gunna tell on me?”

Pyro pouted, but didn’t want anything more to do with him. Instead, they dragged over Soldier’s partially touched plate and added his knife and fork to their growing silverware tipi.

* * *

Battle the next day began with Soldier slinking around the respawn room, trying very hard not to catch anyone’s attention and doing a bad job considering he was Soldier.

“Soldier, stop this,” Medic said. “We have less than five minutes before the match.”

“I cannot find my helmet,” Soldier mumbled defiantly. He was currently wearing last night’s cooking pot over his head.

“We’re out of time lad,” Demo said. “C’mon, one day without it won’t kill you.”

“NEGATORY! I am looking for it. I will join the battle when I have found it again.”

Pyro glared at Scout, who was standing in the corner and wearing a very punchable face as he smugly watched Soldier check under the bench for the fourth time. Pyro considered going making good on that punchability, but decided on a better idea.

“ _I’ll help him look_ ,” they promised, walking over to where Soldier was lifting ceiling tiles.

“…What did little Pyro say?” Heavy rumbled.

“They said they want to help Solly look,” Engie glared, crossing his arms. “Which is even a _worse_ idea. We’d be going down two men instead of just one.”

“Aye,” Demo agreed. “We can look for after we whip some BLUs, for now we have to-”

“Mission begins in thirty seconds!”

“Gah,” Medic growled. “We are out of time. If we all stand here arguing with these two _dummkopfs_ we will _definitely_ lose. If they want to waste their time, let them.”

With that he was off, charging out the gate along with a likeminded Heavy. Engie just shook his head, and one by one the other mercenaries filed out until Pyro and Soldier were the only ones left in the spawn room. They reached over and tugged on his sleeve.

“ _I think I know where your helmet might be_ ,” they admitted.

Soldier looked at them briefly, the visible part of his face locked in a permanent frown, then went back to digging through the trash can.

Pyro growled in frustration. Most of the team had trouble understanding them, but Soldier never even made the _effort_. They grabbed his arm and yanked hard this time. “ _You. Your helmet. Me. I know._ ”

Absently, they’d begun signing some of the words for emphasis, hoping it might help get the point across.

Soldier focused in on their hands. “Are you performing _witchcraft_ on me, missy?!” he menaced. “I have shared mutual rent with a wizard for six years, I know black magic when I see it!”

They groaned. They had been dreading this, but they didn’t think there was any other way to get through to the Soldier. Keeping a hand over the seam, they shoved up the bottom of their mask, just enough to stick their chin out.

Soldier looked away immediately. Pyro understood the feeling; they hadn’t liked seeing him without his covering either, had felt like a voyeur when they’d glanced at him in the mess hall last night. They preferred him like this: where he was presented at exactly the level he wanted to be.

“It’s not magic, it’s sign language.” They cleared their throat, remembering they didn’t have to talk so loud when the mask was off. “And if anyone should be using ASL, it should be you.”

“Me?” Soldier yelped. He still was having difficulty looking at Pyro. “No one has trouble hearing ME, Smokey. I am ADAMANT about making my battle cries OVERWHELMINGLY AUDIBLE.”

“I know. But your hearing is getting really bad.”

Soldier froze, finally looking at Pyro but now in slowly mounting dread. His hand reflexively snapped to the spot on the cooking pot that protected his left ear. “What? My- who told you that??”

“You used to be one of the people who could hear me. Back when we started, you would listen, and I make you know stuff when it was important. Now you don’t even hear Engie or Medic either when they talk to you sometimes, but they haven’t noticed because they’re used to being listened to.”

They took a deep breath. Talking so long without their filters had made their lungs start to hurt, so they pulled the mask down and kicked their boot against the tile floor.

“ _I just wish you would go back to talking to me, not at me_.” With their mask back in place, they could see out the lenses better, and got an eyeful of Soldier staring uncomprehendingly right back. They sighed. “ _Come on, follow me._ ”

This time, they just went ahead and dragged him by the arm. Even Soldier was smart enough to know what that meant.

“Where are we going?”

“ _To get your helmet. HEL. MET._ ” The last part they signed.

When Soldier _still_ stared back blankly, they’d reached their last nerve. They grabbed both his hands, bringing them to the top of his head and then down over his ears, finishing as two fists.

“…Helmet,” Soldier repeated softly.

“ _Yes! Finally!_ ”

Soldier looked down at his own hands, flexing them slightly. Pyro had known he was sensitive about the hearing loss thing, but hadn’t realized how much. They let him take a couple a couple minutes to processes, but eventually they tugged on his arm again, and he let them lead him through Granary’s winding halls. It was almost a complex with how nonsensically it was built, and the two kept looping until they reached the living quarters.

“Why are we breaking into Scout’s room?” Soldier asked as Pyro kicked apart the flimsily lock.

“ _Scout’s been messing with you_ ,” they explained, rooting through Scout’s side-table drawers. “ _He thinks because you tried to take his hat, it’d be funny to take yours._ ”

“Um.” Soldier swallowed, looking around uncomfortably in the middle of the bunkroom. “I think I heard ‘salad dressing’ in there. And maybe also ‘roast smores’.”

“ _Are you just really hungry or something?_ ” They didn’t waste time waiting for a response. Walking over, they lifted Soldier’s hands again, this time forcing themself to be more gentle. “ _SCOUT._ ” Three fingers to the brim of his pot. “ _STEAL._ ” Two fingers under the other hand, drawn backwards.

Soldier puzzled on that for a moment. “Scout…steal?” They nodded, and Soldier’s face darkened. “That traitorous, cleat-wearing, conscientious objector hippie! When I see him again I will take that bat of his and shove it up his thieving ass!”

“ _I’m surprised you can even see him in the first place._ ” They went back to the mess they’d made of Scout’s clothes. “ _Now help me look._ ”

The two of them turned Scout’s room upside down, until the bed was covered in discarded issues of Bonk! Boy and the floor was nothing but socks. Pyro considered cleaning it up, but thought that was more than Scout deserved.

“Well,” Soldier said of the mess. “Now what.”

“ _Don’t give up just yet, Soldier. I know one more place it might be._ ”

This time they didn’t even have to drag him in order to get the Soldier to follow. In no time they were out at Pyro and Scout’s favorite tree, the one they used to climb in the summer as they raced each other to the top. Scout always won, but Pyro got there eventually, which they thought counted for something.

Now it was scrappy and bare, but its branches were still horizontal and thick around, perfect for getting that initial start. You always wanted a tree with a good base, because even if other trees looked better at the top, you could spend all the time in the world trying to get there and never make it.

“ _Give me a boost?_ ” Pyro mimed.

Soldier linked his fingers together, and gave their boot the lift they needed to grab the first branch. After that, it was slow going, trying to remember all the good handholds when things looked so different stripped to their bare bark. It was like being inside a skeleton, the greenery that had blocked out the sun now long dead and wind-whisked away.

But finally, after ten minutes of climbing, they pulled themself eye-level with the hole in the trunk. It might have been a squirrel’s home once, but now it was the resting place of one modal M1 helmet.

“ _Soldier!_ ” they called, waving it over their head. “ _I found it!_ ”

“Good work private!”

And it was all worth it for the naked relief in Soldier’s voice. Now all they had to do was send Scout down so that he could go…

Oh. Right.

As much as they loved climbing stuff, Pyro was terrible at getting down, and the always relied on Engie coming over with his ladder when they got in over their head. He always said that this would be the last damn time and if they did it again he’d leave them in the tree overnight, but that had yet to happen.

Until right now, apparently. “ _Uh…Soldier. I think I’m stuck._ ”

“What was that, Smokey?” Soldier hollered up.

“ _I’m stuck!_ ” They kicked their feet over the long drop below them. “ _I need- I- I need help getting down._ ”

What had been such a short climb on the way up now seemed impossibly far as a gust of autumn wind suddenly shook the whole tree. They squeaked and grabbed the trunk, cursing themself for not thinking of the ladder ahead of time and now Soldier was leaving! Where the heck was he going, he was supposed to help!

They tried to take deep breaths. This was just another part of climbing, they reminded themself. No matter how it ended they’d always see the tree again next time around and dauntlessly push themself up it, starting the whole cycle over again. Engie compared it to a bird constantly ramming itself into a window. They’d just have to wait. Just wait until-

There was a minor explosion at the base of the tree.

Looking down, they were just in time to see Soldier flying gracefully toward them, up into the high branches as his rocket launcher carried him in a controlled arc. He landed on a nearby branch with a grunt, but the bough showed no sign of breaking.

“ _Oh. Right. I forgot you can just do that._ ” They loosened their death grip on the trunk. “ _Maybe I should have just had you come up here instead._ ”

“You okay, Smokey?” he asked quizzically.

“ _I. I think so_ ,” they nodded. “ _Just got scared for a second._ ” It was always much better when someone was up here with them.

Soldier hesitated for a second, then scanned the horizon around the tree. It went on for miles, and you could almost see the other bases in the distance. After a moment, he sat himself down on his branch.

Pyro handed his helmet to him. He looked at it, or at least that’s what Pyro thought he was doing, and then removed his cooking pot, quietly stating that he would use it to beat Scout to death in a little bit. Pyro politely averted their eyes. When they looked back, he was Soldier once more, hale and tilting his head in Pyro’s direction.

“You did good, son,” he said eventually. “You’ll get a medal for this, on my word.”

They shook their head. “ _I don’t need a medal. I just don’t like bullies._ ”

He frowned, and they knew it was a different frown, one of frustration not at them but at himself. The two of them sat in silence, watching those far away places.

“So.” Soldier coughed into his fist. “That hand talk you were using.”

“ASL?”

“Yeah. That.” He looked around. “How about…tree. What’s the word for that?”

They thought for a moment, wondering if he was really asking what they thought he was. Thoughtfully, they raised one arm at the elbow and gave it a little wiggle.

“And what about…” He pointed to himself.

“ _Soldier._ ” They gave two thumbs up, and tapped them over their chest.

Soldier laughed, clearly enjoying that one. He pointed at Pyro next.

They went through all the important stuff. Spy, thanks, dispenser, sentry, everything they could think that the thought could be helpful. Soldier mimicked them, and it took him quite a few tries of going back over things, but eventually Pyro was satisfied that he had the key phrases down pat. It was so engaging, it took a flying, burning, screaming object passing over the battlefield to draw the pair’s attention back toward Granary.

“ _I think that was Demo_ ,” they observed.

Soldier paused thoughtfully, then signed Demo’s name.

“ _Ha! Yeah!_ ” They signed along as they spoke, knowing that Soldier didn’t have much of a vocabulary after only an hour, but trusting he would get the gist. “ _I guess we should be heading back to the match now._ ”

“Yeah.” Soldier used the bough above him for balance as he clambered to his feet. “You still need help?”

“ _…If you don’t mind._ ”

It was much scarier to stand than it was to sit, and as soon as they let go of the trunk they went to straight to clinging to Soldier just as fiercely. They managed to wrap all four limbs around him, holding on like a baby monkey.

“GERONIMO!” Soldier called out.

Pyro had no idea how he could _do_ this. It was just straight up _falling_ , their stomach now up by their eyeballs as they wailed the whole way down. A last minute explosion against the ground cushioned their fall, but they still heard a distinctive crush as they landed.

“ _…Was that your ankles?_ ” they asked him, chin resting on his shoulder.

“That’s war, lady,” he boasted. “Sometimes the price we pay is compounding microfractures. Now let’s move out!”

Before they could object, he’d launched another rocket, and the two of them went sailing back into the fray.


End file.
